A Catholic Blog
A priest writing reflections on theology, philosophy, and Catholicism. I'll occasionaly write movie reviews, rants, and discussion topics. I write from my experiences, personal and intellectual, for my benefit and yours (should you get any from it). None of what I write is official or representative of my diocese or parish, just my semi-public attempt at figuring things out and sharing it with you for the sake of dialogue.

Monday, December 24, 2012

Note: This was written about a week back and concerns this Sunday's readings (12/23/2012, Link to readings). This is a short reflection I offer you as we come to the close of Advent.

My family is getting
to that point where the next generation are having their first and
second children. Now when we gather for Christmas, Thanksgiving, and
other events they come in, give everyone their obligatory hug, and
proceed to pull out every single toy in the basement, play with it
for an average of 5 seconds, and move onto something else.
Nevertheless we all look on, either smiling at what they do or
chasing them so they don't hurt themselves by falling down a flight
of stairs. Scripture, in a manner of speaking, doesn't surprise me
when it says that small and insignificant-looking things can and will
produce a large and pervasive effect.

This can only
happen, I suppose, when we come to appreciate something small as
God's most powerful tool. Mary's sister Elizabeth certainly seemed to
appreciate it. When Mary, a young lady of probably 15 or 16 years of
age entered her house and greeted her she felt her own son, John,
leap in her womb. Mary's greeting and the reaction of her unborn son
prompted her to say “blessed are you among women” and “how is
it that the mother of my Lord should come to me?” What Elizabeth
knew in faith is not unlike what we know in love from looking at a
little child. A relationship with our Savior is obviously different
than watching a child play, but both fill us with words
inexpressible. All we can do is look on with wonder and gratitude.

Indeed, we hear
often among others who speak to the mother of a little child, “What
a beautiful child, you're so lucky.” Perhaps it's not so different
in tone next to 'blessed are you among women.'

The meeting between
Mary and Elizabeth was also a meeting of the unborn Jesus Christ and
John the Baptist. In the wombs of two women meeting in private rested
the herald of a new age and the King of all ages. In the quiet
privacy of a Jewish woman's home was a new era. Elizabeth,
recognizing this silent revolution, rejoices. The author of Hebrews
captures this feeling: he recounts that “in burnt offerings and
sacrifice you did not desire” (cf. Heb 5:5-10) but rather God
delighted in those who did his will.

No flashy work can
produce the same fruit as a humble submission to God's will. The
strange thing is that this very submission makes something even more
wonderful then the spectacle a public sacrifice in the temple might
have been. Mary is praised with such fantastic words because she
believed “that what was spoken to her by the Lord would be
fulfilled.” She is not praised because she has worked some
magnificent sign, but she is praised because she heard the voice of
God, believed it, and acted on it with a simple 'yes.' This simple
and private 'yes' changed her whole life, indeed it changed all of
our lives.

This humility and
trust produces, as it were, a light to the whole world. The feeling
is not unlike that child who captures everyone's attention at a
family party. Perhaps our own faith should be regarded as a little
child—it is small and innocent and, when we look upon it, we regard
it with infinite wonder and gratitude, seeking what's best for it
because we realize the profound impact it really has on us and those
around us.

Saturday, December 8, 2012

When I have debated with others about
the Genesis narratives of creation one comment that emerges is the
similarities of those narratives to other creation narratives, most
notably the Enuma Elish in Babylonian mythology. This
similarity for some is proof enough that the Biblical account is
merely one among many accounts or that it simply stole from their
captors but made minor changes (The Enuma Elish predates the
written Biblical account).

Many Christian scholars now believe
that the similarity in construction is intentional and that the
Genesis account is structured close to the Babylonian myth in order
to act as a theological polemic. When one puts both accounts side by
side it seems as if the syntax is nearly identical—for the
undiscerning mind. The slight changes of both tone and process
reveals a delicate construction on the part of both authors,
Babylonian or Hebrew. Contained in simple mythological language are
commentaries about creation, the nature of man, the nature of God (or
gods), and much more. In reading both I have always found that the
Hebrew account was in all ways more fascinating, powerful, and rich.
This is not simply my allegiance to Christ but also simply taking
both narratives by the power of their own arguments. The Biblical
account has the advantage of being the “response” so to speak,
but some of the best and most compelling arguments are the ones that
sound almost exactly like your opponent but turn the whole issue on
its head. The Genesis accounts, both of them (but more the first),
share this excellent quality.

This is a perfect example of someone who has taken the time to align the syntax of both stories in such a way so as to situate them as merely a historical occurrence. Indeed, at face value they are nearly identical when seen in this way. What the author of this rather long and not un-scholarly article fails to consider is "why" and "how" the stories are presented.
If the author does not believe in God (or discounts a perspective of belief) those questions are irrelevant anyhow. See the comments at the bottom of this article to see how others treat it. For them it's not a matter of it could be true, or that the construction is intentional, but that it's human, all too human. (Article)

I give you this example as a way of
introducing a thought of mine on the great and beautiful account of
Mary. It is not the fruit of years of research or devotion—I have
not had the grace others who experience an intimate relationship with
Mary in their prayer—but I must admit that as I grow older I am
drawn more quickly to reflect on her maternal love and anguish, both
of them intensified beyond my comprehension by virtue of her son,
Jesus Christ. What I want to propose is that the Evangelists, men who
knew Scripture and indeed had the Spirit working within them, chose a
similar approach of expressing Mary. I do not deny the historicity of
the Annunciation but I found it worth my time reflecting on the
parallels between Mary's mission, as it were, and the mission and
commission of others in Scripture. The similarities tie her into a
greater narrative and the differences set her apart. This was a
conscious choice by the Evangelists but also, in my mind, their
indication of a most unique specialness of Mary in the whole of
history.

Her uniqueness often lies in what makes her most unnoticeable.

I will focus on Luke who has a special
interest in Mary. Luke also is kind enough to give us the whole
paradigm by relating the announcement of the birth of John the
Baptist to his father Zechariah. This narrative alone has strong
parallels in Abraham's call and promise of a son. When the angel of
the Lord told them that their wives would bear them a son Abraham
laughed and Zechariah said “How shall I know this? I am an old man
and my wife is advanced in years” (Luke 1:18). This is the response
of mankind, from ancient times immemorial to the present day. God
promises the fantastic and impossible and we shake our heads both
stupefied and incredulous.

At first glance, it would seem Mary's
response is no different: “How can this be, since I have no
relations with a man?” (Lk 1:34). This is a problem for English
that masks this profound difference of Mary. In the Greek (I won't
bore you with all the details) Zechariah asks “how shall I know
this” as if to say 'unless I know how can I believe?' This is why
the angel silences him, literally, saying “Now you will be
speechless … because you did not believe my words” (Lk 1:20).
Mary, on the other hand, responds with the verb “estai” in Greek
which perhaps colloquially means “how can this be” but has the
force of “it shall be, how shall it come about?” Zechariah asked
how will he know (gnosomai) whereas Mary asks with that
powerful verb 'to be' “how will it come to pass?” Already, in
this small juxtaposition we see in Mary that there is no tension
between her and the message of God. This is why she can say afterward
“Behold, I am the handmaid of the Lord. May it be done to me
according to your word” (Lk 1:38).

We take for granted the circumstances
of this passage. After all, an angel of the Lord presents himself to
Mary and she trembles as every other man and woman had in all of
Scripture. Yet when she is addressed there is no hesitation.

More curious and fascinating still is
that in nearly every narrative that deals in a special call is
preceded by an admission of the speaker of his weakness. Jeremiah
declared he was too young (Jer 1:6), Abraham that he was too old (Gen
17:17), and Moses that he could not speak well (Ex 4:10). Mary, on
the other hand, says nothing of her unworthiness in any fashion. Even
Isaiah who readily exclaimed “Here I am! Send me” recalled that
he was a man of “unclean lips from a people of unclean lips.”
Mary, however, not only accepts the word of God but finds herself
fully capable from the outset of doing it. The angel says nothing of
her unbelief. Rather, Mary asked and the answer was given to her
because of her faith. She knew it was not to be done according to her
knowledge but His word.

A Flemish painting of the announcement of a son for Abraham. He seems to be saying, "What? With her?" He laughed when God suggested it and thus his son was named "Issac" which roughly means "he laughs."

There are a wealth of examples I could
bring up about the stark contrast of Mary to the rest of the holy men
and women cataloged in Scripture, such as her name remaining the same
despite the gravity of her task (contrary to Peter, Paul, Abraham,
Israel, etc. whose names were changed). The question we must ask
ourselves when contemplating Mary, her role, her importance, and her
significance is “what does it mean?”

Was it arbitrary? For the believer to
say such a thing about Scripture is foolishness. Much like Genesis,
when we see that the argument is constructed like the others we are
lulled into a false security and sense of familiarity. The account of
Mary is not a polemic as such, but it is a theology-rich exposition
(history). It is constructed like all the others in order to magnify
the differences. As to the question “what does it mean,” which is
a worthy question for each line of Scripture, she clearly meant a
great deal to Luke. The early Church furnishes us with further
reflection on Mary and what she meant to them. They were ready to
call her the “New Eve” for if sin first entered the world through
the disobedience of man and woman then it is only right that through
the obedience and humility of a man (Jesus) and woman (Mary) that
salvation was made available to all. Augustine expresses this
sentiment in his book “On Christian Teaching,” albeit seemingly
unfair to women, by saying “The disease [sin] entered through a
corrupted female mind; healing emerged from and intact female body”
(Book I.13.xxix).

There are too many great images that seem to me to relate Mary's purity in a way that only an image can convey.

For it is not our place to simply say
our salvation is “through Christ alone” as if to say “nothing
else matters.” Rather, it is better to wonder at “God chose that
His only begotten son would be born of a woman and bear our entire
human estate.” I do not diminish Christ's supreme and necessary
role. What I am saying is that we must examine, marvel, pray, and
give thanksgiving for how he chose to effect His grand
designs. Where men are often moved by grandeur God chose to enter in
all humility. Likewise, where many in Scripture wanted to control the
situation they were in (and in the process doubt God) Mary became a
perfect conduit of grace by virtue of her obedience and humility.

On this, the Holy Day of the Immaculate
Conception I thought it would be worthy to devote some time to
reflection on Mary most holy. There is far more to say than my meager
words here. I only leave this with you to look at Mary as I see her
(or perhaps as I'm beginning to see her). No other human being can
claim to have known Christ in his full humanity or divinity than his
mother who loved him with all the intensity of motherhood and
suffered on account of his suffering more than anyone can comprehend.
Woman is the crown of creation and Mary the queen of humanity. May
her resplendent example lead us to Jesus Christ her son and to God
almighty.

Monday, December 3, 2012

Last time we examined briefly how God
uses and works with our desires. He works with our friends and
enemies alike to effect His great wisdom. Now this can be hard to
understand and it can make it seem like we play no part. Some feel
that this makes God controlling or domineering while others feel they
have no control or say. Below I will look at how the prophets worked
with God, voluntarily, to bring about His will. That through
their own acceptance of His will (though it was God's initiative and
grace, always) they shared in it.

God sent his prophets to the people of
Israel. God preferred them over others to spread His message by
asking “Whom shall I send?” (Is 6:8). To Jeremiah He said “I
place my words in your mouth” (Jer 1:9). To Ezekiel he said “Son
of man, I am sending you … eat this scroll … and speak my words
to them” (Ez 2:3, 3:1,4). It did not matter what rank or station.
God formed a special relationship with a priest, one already a
prophet, and a herdsman. “The Lord took me from following the
flock, and said to me, 'Go and prophecy to my people Israel'” (Amos
7:15).

It should be noted that every prophet
counted himself unworthy for the task God put before him. God,
however, strengthened them by His Spirit. The inspiration he gave
them was not a matter of replacing them with His own Body. It was not
replacement but literally inspiration, a “breathing into.” The
prophets did not lose their soul, mind, speech, or person. They were
men who were deeply entrenched in the world they lived in and all of
its evils. They were not transported to an ethereal realm but God met
them where they were.

More powerfully still it is written:
“Do two walk together unless they have agreed?
… Indeed, the Lord God does nothing without revealing his
plan to his servants the prophets” (Amos 3:3, 7). It pleased God to
not merely use the prophets as a tool, nor does he use those faithful
to him as a tool. Rather God asks us to walk with Him. He asks that
we seek his voice, hear it, and respond. Each of the prophets
believed, heard His voice, and were deeply moved by the presence of
God. Then God asked them if they would go to his people and speak to
them. God speaks through his prophets, but the prophets do not merely
speak for God. They speak through God, rather God and the
prophet speak together. The prophets stand in His presence (e.g.,
“Thus the Lord answered me [personally]: if you repent, that I
restore you, in my presence you shall stand … you shall be my
mouthpiece. Then it shall be they [Israel] that turns to you” (Jer
16:19)).

A prophet listens to the plight of God
who looks upon the children that he loves. He sees them turning their
backs to Him and instead preferring to sacrifice children to wood and
stone. The prophet feels what God feels and cannot help but speak
out. The prophet is so attuned to God's will that he acts clearly and
directly. But not all men, even the holiest among them, experienced
this. Only a select few were called. Some considered weak, faithless,
and sinful. Some struggled and failed even after they were called.
But God does not necessarily call the strong, the proud, or the sure.
God called the Hebrews saying “It was not because you are the
largest of all nations that the Lord set his heart on you and chose
you, for you are really the smallest of all nations” (Deut 7:7).
The same was true with the Apostles and prophets.

All of these men and others—holy men
and women alike—were chosen by God to proclaim his word. They were
men “of unclean lips in a people of unclean lips” (Is 6:5) and
yet God selected them to deliver his message of repentance and
reconciliation. He used our humble humanity and at times the
wickedness of humanity to do His will. He effected his will through
the agency of man. Some are willing while others are unknowing. God's
hand directs them both. His kindness rests on those who turn to him.

Next time we will turn to the
Resurrection of Jesus and his instruction to his Apostles. We see
that the course of history changed at the coming of the Word but we
see also that Christ continued the course God set from the beginning.
That is to say that men and women from every generation would guide
people to God in extraordinary ways. This was true in life and in
eternal life, now afforded by the blood of Christ. Because Christ
rose death now carried no sway over the souls of the faithful
departed. The saints ran the race and so celebrated their victory
over death. We will treat the Apostles and their successors and how
they too are more than just a model but fully living and forever
servants of God leading us to Him.

Saturday, November 17, 2012

This was actually twice as long and I split this up into two parts. The
good news is that the next part is done. The bad news is that this may
be disjointed. I'm going to come back to this tomorrow and see if I need
to edit anything (such as make additions).

Please leave your
comments and questions below. It's not finished, so I realize that some
of you may not want to render judgment just yet, but a heads-up to
potential problems makes for a better process. Thanks again!

II. God Works through His People

Last time we said that the saints, in
accord with the letter of James, were exemplary “doers of the word”
(James 1:22). They not only stand before us as a model but a living
voice in every age calling each of us to conversion. In the previous
section we saw that the Apostles, filled with the Spirit, attracted a
great number to them. Some take delight in having others flock to
them and hang on their every word. A saint, however, does as John the
Baptist did: he pointed to Christ.

A saint, in his perfect humility, does
all his work for the sake of Jesus Christ and His mission which is
the salvation of the whole world. I also claimed last time that
seeking their intercession was not an act of disobedience to Christ
but an act of personal humility for Christ. We, weak as we
often are, ask for the prayers of men and women who know how to ask
more perfectly. Indeed, James tells us that “you ask but do not
receive, because you ask wrongly, to spend it on your
passions” (James 4:3).

Below
we shall examine this truth: God
uses us and the whole world in order to call us to Himself.

Some have argued that asking for the
aid of the saints is to put a sort of “middle man” in between God
and the person. This argument, which takes many forms, seems to me to
be ignorant of Scripture as well as the process of salvation.

God employs harvesters and fishers of
men to do his work. He gives those who are faithful in small matters
even greater responsibility (cf. Mt 25:14-30).

But God's will and action are not
limited to his own word or his hands. It pleased God to use
intermediaries to effect his designs such as the prophets, the
Apostles, the angels, and his saints. God also used the wicked and
the deformed to effect his will. He did not use them as a puppeteer
but rather allowed their wickedness to bring about an inevitable
good. God used the Assyrians and Babylonians to convert Israel back
to Him:

Who was it that gave Jacob to be
plundered, Israel to the despoilers [the Assyrians]? Was it not the
Lord, against whom we have sinned? In his ways they refused
to walk, his law they disobeyed. So he poured out wrath upon
them, his anger, and the fury of battle; It blazed round about them,
yet they did not realize, it burned them, but they took it not to
heart. (Is 42:24-25, italics added for emphasis).

Their houses will fall to strangers
[the Babylonians], their fields and their wives as well; For I will
stretch forth my hand against those who dwell in this land, says the
Lord” (Jer 6:12) (cf., Jer 27:2-6).

The prophet Jeremiah. Hated among his peers and countrymen. Laughed at, scorned, and threatened his whole life he proclaimed God's word. Other prophets and believers tried to silence him and offer a different message. He is a reminder to us that those whom we dislike, hate, or consider as 'less faithful' (or whatever suits us) may in fact be a clearer display of God's message than we care to say. The man who speaks out against evil despite the consequences is a man of God. Jeremiah was a true man of God, despite his pitiable appearance and difficult life.

We see that God uses and allows our
desires to aid us or harm us. The prophet Hosea proclaims that God
“will hedge in her way with thorns and erect a wall against her, so
that she cannot find her paths. If she runs after her lovers, she
shall not overtake them; if she looks for them she shall not find
them. Then she shall say, "I will go back to my first husband,
for it was better with me then than now." So I will allure her;
I will lead her into the desert and speak to her heart” (Hos 2:8-9,
16).

Look closely at this passage and
reflect deeply on these words. The thorns He erects are for paths
that lead to false gods and immorality. These paths are none other
than our malformed choices and desires. The destination we all seek,
however, is happiness. She runs “after her lovers” which is
happiness gained through immorality and false worship. She “searches
but shall not find” means that those who look for happiness outside
of God (i.e., in these errant ways) will not find it. This is not to
say that we do not have things that make us happy. But we invariably
fool ourselves when we think finite and temporary things will give us
lasting pleasure. Pleasure gives way to pain. Moreover attachment to
anything, good or bad, will be counted as a loss to us. It will
return to dust regardless of our actions. True happiness is found in
the true God. The path that leads to Him will have what we need to
get to Him—it does not exclude loved ones, pleasure, or happiness
but it is ordered to God and God alone. When God leads her “into
the desert” this means that our hearts, when they recognize that
nothing else will last except God we will realize He is the sum of
all our desires and we will seek Him in all we do and do His will. So
many want to have “God and...” and end up with nothing.
Wisdom dictates that when we have “God alone...”
we gain everything, even what we thought was lost. When we believe we
are building paths to God through our desires we are often
constructing cages and walls that keep us from Him. The prophets are
all of one voice saying “What must we lose to gain?”

The prophet Hosea was told to take a wife for himself. She was a known prostitute who committed many infidelities. God told Hosea that this was how Israel had treated Him. All the same, God commanded that he love her and take her back because the love of God and deeper and more powerful than any infidelity. God could not show us this striking image, however, unless Hosea loved and trusted God enough to do as he was asked.

This passage from Hosea is only one
example that explains how God works with us and through us whether we
are conscious of it or not. Some, however, believe that this
interaction of God in our lives (i.e., “grace”) is irresistible
and unavoidable. The believe that God will use anyone and we just
happen to be lucky if we're on the right side of the battle. I
propose to show how that isn't true.

Next time we will look at how God
interacted with the prophets and how the prophets worked with
God. We shall see how the prophets were men of all walks of life who
were given a special mission and a unique grace to feel what
God feels and speak with Him openly.

Wednesday, October 31, 2012

I realized after writing this that it may be cryptic for some. For
those struggling with one of the themes, please consider this: to neglect,
hate, or ridicule someone or something for weakness or simplicity is an error on your part. These are all strong words, to be sure, but I've
heard far too many arguments along the lines of "he's a sinner how could
you love him?" Even of the blessed St. Peter "he was a fool and serves
as an example for us." Others may say "I hate myself because I keep messing up [in sin, etc.]." Others still have said that "the Church is just
human authority filled with human weakness, I follow God alone."

Part of this is about patience and perseverance coupled with understanding and a willingness to change.

I
ask, humbly, you reflect on those sentiments with this. This is hardly
adequate for full but in the interest of your own attention and
retention I cut this down significantly.

What are you talking about?? (Comment below if you feel that way)

I. Introduction

Those who do not share in the
weaknesses of the body have no share in the body itself. For what
body in this life is free from corruption and limitedness? Even the
great Body of Christ is subject to weakness precisely because he
subjected Himself to our weakness since “he took the form of a
slave” (Phil 2:7) and “was of human estate.” Even after the
Resurrection His resplendent and transformed body still bore the
wounds of his glorious crucifixion (cf. Jn 20:20). It should be noted
even more that Jesus identifies Himself with the weak and broken for
“what you have done for the least of these you have done for me”
(Mt:25:40). Likewise Jesus identified Himself with those who were
persecuted, ridiculed, and killed in His name. This is why He said
“Saul, Saul, why are you persecuting me?” (cf. Acts 9:4,
5).

Paul said that “Christ is the head of
the body the church.” (Col 1:18). We have seen, albeit briefly,
that Christ shared in our humanity fully and willfully. We saw,
through His resurrection, that He transformed our weaknesses while
still keeping the physical marks of that weakness. They were not cast
aside or hidden but present in plain sight. Jesus told Thomas “put
your finger in my hands and in my side” (cf. Jn 20:27ff). The
history of Christianity is a constant call to “place our fingers on
the wounds of His body.” Thomas doubted the Resurrection, perhaps,
because after witnessing the horror and shame of the cross (and
living in his own shame) he asked ‘how might anything good come
from this?’ Christ showed him precisely the good that came from it,
namely His own person.

Caravaggio's famous painting not only represents the doubt of Thomas but that same doubt that we feel about our Church and her divine characteristics. Are we willing to address our doubts? Are we still willing to trust in the Church?

II. Sharing in Weakness

This is what I call each of you to do
today: If you are to truly share in the Body of Christ do you share
in its weaknesses? The weaknesses I refer to are failures in charity,
excessive opulence, elements of the Inquisition and Crusades, sex
abuses, and every weakness that we see in our own person. Blaming the
past, however horrible—and indeed some things are horrible—is to
separate fallen and weak humanity from the life of faith. Faith is
not perfection but, in a manner of speaking, seeking perfection.
Weakness is either self-generated or encountered, shall we shy away
from either?

I rarely see this type of image, of Jesus as a fragile child being cared for. Jesus Christ, our savior and Lord, became as a little child out of love for us.

Christ met our broken humanity. He
calls us through faith and baptism to share in His mission of
transforming all of humanity. If we deny the humanity of the
Body we separate ourselves from that Body. The Church is the Body of
Christ beset by human weakness but all the same transformed by Christ
and upheld by the Spirit.

When we recognize weaknesses and
failures there is a twofold response: the first is active insofar as
we seek to rid ourselves of that weakness (whatever it may be). The
second, equally important, is to realize that we are not separate
from our weaknesses. The weaknesses that we carry inform our actions
for the future, even in healing. If we do not address our weakness
actively we won’t change effectively. If we try to disassociate
ourselves from our weaknesses we become insensitive to the weaknesses
of others and we forget who we are.

III. Examples of Weakness
Transformed

St. Peter is our first
example and our guide. He was filled with faith and he was blessed
personally by Christ (cf. Mt 16:16-20). But he had his faults too. He
was rash and at times overzealous. This zeal, coupled with his
predispositions about what the Messiah was supposed to be, led him to
deny Christ three times while He was being humiliated. He abandoned
his friend and the one whom he loved. “He wept bitterly” (cf. Mt
27:75). After the resurrection Christ called out to him and Peter
responded. Christ confronted Peter’s sin, fear, and weakness not by
shaming him but by asking him, “Peter, do you love me?” Jesus
asked him this three times for every time Peter denied him. Peter
recanted three times saying “You know that I love you” (Jn
21:17). Peter is a man whose strengths and weaknesses are on full
display. Just as God had chosen Moses, Abraham, and David before He
chose this time to call a simple fisherman to greatness. These
patriarchs and this king themselves sinned, doubted, and failed.
Through it all they carried out what God had asked of them. Only
Peter, however, was given “the keys of the kingdom of heaven” (Mt
16:19).

Despite his brashness and weakness Christ still pulled him from the water. Despite his denial Jesus came to him and Peter grew in understanding, wisdom, and love because of Christ's example.

Our chief example, and one that
has given me pause for years, is the Eucharist. I believe in Christ
and I believe in Christ risen. I also believe that at the Last Supper
he gave us a model to follow: he took the bread, broke it and said,
'take this all of you and eat this. This is my body which has been
given up for you.' He also said of the wine 'this is my blood.' This
I believe with my whole heart. This sentiment is in accord with all
that has been said above. Truly, to our senses it appears as mere
bread and mere wine. Then I recall with wonder that “he emptied
himself … coming in human likeness and found in human appearance”
(Phil 2:7). Likewise that “he had to become like his brothers in
every way” (Heb 2:17).

Indeed, the Eucharist is regarded as
the Son of Man, present sacramentally in ordinary bread and wine
which has been transformed by the prayer that Christ entrusted to His
Apostles and their successors. The Eucharist is both a glorification
of the Cross and a sacrifice that dips into the eternal moment of
Christ's one sacrifice and shares fully in it. It is something that
stands outside of time. Something so grand, God Himself! in ordinary,
daily food. Christians have praised the extraordinary in the ordinary
as well as paradox from the beginning insofar as “Jews look for
signs and Greeks look for wisdom but we proclaim Christ crucified”
(1 Cor 1:22-23).

This is what we exalt. Do you?

Furthermore Jesus Christ Himself is
“the living bread that came down from heaven that one may eat it
and not die. I AM the living bread that came down from heaven;
whoever eats this bread will live forever; and the bread that I will
give is my flesh for the life of the world” (Jn 6:50-51). I could
occupy an encyclopedia set with the richness of these verses. The
word “eat” (phagein) has no spiritual connotation. It
literally means to chew and physically eat. By eating this living
bread we shall not die. Then Christ follows by saying “ego eimi”
which means “I am.” But this is no mere “I am” but rather a
direct reference to God speaking about Himself in the Old Testament.
It is a proclamation of authority and power—this is something we
should listen to. He said “I AM the living bread come down from
heaven.” He then says “Whoever eats/chews this bread will
live forever.” He further says
“the bread which I give is my flesh,” Literally my earthly flesh.
The simple bread which He gives is
his flesh. For the time being let this entirely inadequate account
suffice. No “ego eimi”
statement in Scripture is a metaphor or an opinion. It is Jesus
speaking in the authority of the Father on an intrinsic reality.

IV. Share in
Weakness, Share in Glory

What is my purpose
in saying all of this? Proceeding from the Eucharist and the example
of the Apostles (chief among them Peter) Christ gave us two simple
and lowly things and transformed them. He transformed bread and wine
into His flesh and blood. He transformed simple fishermen into
philosophers, teachers, and bearers of His message. Though they were
of human estate they were transformed and “filled with the Holy
Spirit” (Acts 2:4).

The Church is the
Body of Christ—it is subject to weakness. The Eucharist is bread
and wine made the Body and Blood of Christ—it is common and
ordinary yet mysterious and sublime. The Apostles were chosen by
Christ Himself to bear unique witness to His teaching and
mission—they were “also human beings” (Acts 10:26). Jesus
Christ identifies with the poor, persecuted, and the oppressed in an
intimate way—they are lowly and 'worthless' in the eyes of the
world. Finally, Jesus Christ Himself, was born of a virgin in
poverty. He was a helpless child and a man subjected to ridicule and
cruel torture. A man who took on our every weakness.

By eating His flesh
and blood, and through baptism, we join ourselves more fully to Him
so that we may share in His suffering. In our own flesh we “fill up
what is lacking in the afflictions of Christ on behalf of His body,
which is the Church” (Col 1:24). When the Church, or even her
members, do evil the whole suffers. By our personal and communal
work, love, and suffering we correct the wounds of that Body and also
“share in our master's joy” (cf. Mt 25:14-23).

Follow their hands and their eyes. They are looking at Christ, yes. They are looking at the Eucharist.

Join
yourself, then, more fully to Him and His Church, for those who do
not share in the weaknesses of the Body will separate themselves from
the Body. In rejecting weakness and wickedness as unlovable they move
away from the God “who so loved the world
that He gave His only Son” (Jn 3:16a).

Friday, October 26, 2012

Last time we briefly examined faith,
works, and the aim of my work. We saw that faith was both a response
to a call and a 'hope for things not yet realized.' My claim, for the
sake of clarification, is that faith is something that looks
outwards. Without faith we cannot know what to look for or what to
trust, and without works that faith is dead. By works we mean actions
that seek to bring about that hope. So in a certain sense faith does
inspire us to works and works do flow from faith. On the other hand
faith allows us to see what we should work towards. Stronger still,
faith helps us to see what we must work for. (see part 1 here:Part 1)

But if faith is perceiving what we
desire then desire alone will not allow us to receive what we desire.
Works are necessary to reach the goal that we desire. This is why
James says “I will demonstrate my faith to you from my works”
(James 2:18) and that “faith was completed [literally: perfected]
by the works [of Abraham]” (2:22). This theme will be expanded on
later by viewing in detail the parable of the Sower and the seed in
hopes to make this point clearer. For now we shall turn to the
argument at hand.

Rather than analyzing faith and works
right away we should look at love [caritas]. In order to speak
of these two words and ideas we must speak of a third, namely love.

There is hardly a better place to begin
either, for “God is love” (1 Jn 4:8) and that of all the virtues
and gifts of the Holy Spirit “faith, hope, and charity [caritas]
remain … but the greatest of these is charity [i.e., love]” (1
Cor 13:13). Faith itself is initiated by love and sustained by love.
Faith is a sort of relationship to God and knowledge of God. The
blessed Apostle John says, however, that “Whoever is without love
does not know God … [for] no one has ever seen God. Yet if we love
one another, God remains in us, and his love is brought to perfection
in us” (1 Jn 4:8, 12). Love then seems superior to faith in many
instances in Scripture. It is not superior such that faith is
useless. Rather, Augustine speaks well in his masterpiece On
Christian Teaching when he says “faith will be replaced by the
sight of visible reality, and hope by the real happiness we shall
attain, whereas love will actually increase when [the world] passes
away” ( Book I. 90). Faith is meant to get us somewhere and Love is
where we must go. Augustine also says rightly that if our faith
lapses then our love will also lapse, since we would not know what to
love. As it stands, however, “if I have faith so as to move
mountains, but do not have love, I am nothing” (1 Cor 13:2).

Love is also greater than works because
love is both a work and the foundation of all works. Every man acts
for some purpose and that purpose is love. A man may love
wrongly—preferring evil things to good things. But a proper love
produces proper works. A problem emerges: someone may give to the
poor which is itself a good work, but that person may not love the
poor. The foundationof all law and service, however, is not
to give goods to others but to love them. Love is not a work like
other works but it is the supreme work that must be the source of all
others if any of our works are to have life. An analogy, imperfect as
it is, may help here: our bodies sometimes twitch. Nerves are excited
and our arm or leg jerks because of something that affected us. But
when we have a sound disposition we order our arms and bodies to do
many different tasks with precision.

Works when they are without love, even
though they are good, are like barely-lifeless twitches. Works
inspired and guided by love is like the skill of a fine
craftsman—intentional, knowledgeable, and purposeful.

Love, it seems, is truly the foundation
of all. For our purposes it seems to be the foundation for both faith
and works. There is no greater work of love, apart from Christ
crucified, than that of creation. Love, therefore, creates. It may be
said that faith and works alike proceed from love and are
completed by love. All the same, faith and works are the expressions
of love as well as the road by which we love.

God's love is perfect but our own love
lacks perfection. This is why we have faith and works.

Faith directs our hearts and peers into
the shadows of great mysteries. For revelation is God's gift which
allows us to know of the world, ourselves, and God Himself. We see
all of these things by faith: that creation is good, ordered, and
loved. It shows us that God is Three-in-One, transcendent, and yet
immanent.

Works temper our bodily passions and
sharpen our vision. For without doing good works ourselves how may we
see the work of the Holy Spirit in us and others? When our bodies are
distracted by idle passions we will fail to see truth clearly and, by
our weakened disposition, fail to love readily.

At this point, however, love is still a
vague idea. As I have mentioned above we all love something or
someone. In like manner we desire certain things, jobs, pleasures,
and honors for ourselves. In order to understand love more precisely
I would like to focus our attention to the Trinity. In order to
understand how faith and works proceed from love it is important, I
think, to first look at Love Himself. Though I can only speak weakly
I want to speak on the Trinity so we may reflect on perfect Love
which produced everything—a love so powerful that it brought forth
everything from nothing! From that reflection we shall see a bit more
clearly, I think, what that means for us and what it reveals to us
about humanity made in His image.

Sunday, October 21, 2012

In this piece I hope to accomplish,
step-by-step, an understanding of the saints. In a small part how we
should strive to be saintly and in larger part how we should consider
those who are called saints in the fullest sense, i.e., those with
almighty God in heaven who pray for us and continue, in His
friendship, to aid us in many ways. Though I will begin by mentioning
mediation I will pick it up in a later part.

I. Who are They?

Christ indeed is “the one mediator
between God and the human race” (1 Tim 2:5) but does this mean that
God the Father will only listen to Christ? Does not the Lord “have
eyes for the just and ears for their cry”? (Ps 34:16). Further
still Christ tells us to “ask and it will be given to you” (Mt
7:7). The letter to James further qualifies this when he says “You
do not possess because you do not ask. You ask but do not receive,
because you ask wrongly, to spend it on your passions” (James
4:2b-3).

What should we ask for and how do we
ask rightly? The letter of James further tells us that in order to do
this we must be “doers of the word and not hearers only” (1:22).
We learn through many venues but the most powerful teachers of faith
and love are the saints.

The saints are, in short, exemplary
doers of the word. They stand as a model for us in courage, patience,
and wise-counsel among other virtues. We are drawn to a truly holy
person because it seems like that ‘have it together.’ They
exemplify—it’s almost an aura—a love of God and a love of
neighbor. This power and aura are displayed by the Apostles
themselves. Look at see the circumstances of these examples:

+Phillip runs up to the Ethiopian
eunuch reading Isaiah and says ‘Do you understand what you read?’
The man replies, ‘How can I, unless someone instructs me?’
Phillip, filled with the Holy Spirit, instructed him. The eunuch,
himself moved by that same Spirit, sought to be baptized immediately.
Phillip became a light to a man searching for Christ. (cf. Acts
8:26-40)

Philip instructing the Ethiopian eunuch, pointing to Scripture and pointing to God. His bodily presence and actions making it possible for this man to see both.

+Paul and Barnabas preached at Lystra
and healed a crippled man. Their presence and power of spirit and
speech drew a large crowd to them. The Greeks there took them to be
the gods Zeus and Hermes and began to worship them. But Paul was
distraught, saying to them ‘We are flesh and blood just as you are.
We have done these works so you might turn from idols and false gods
and turn to the living God.’ (cf Acts 14:8-20)

Paul and Barnabas (right) pleading that the Greeks stop worshiping them
after healing a crippled man. Men are drawn to great power mixed with
great humility, but here too Paul reminds them that they are flesh just
as they are.

The Apostles, men moved by the Spirit,
proclaimed God to their fellow men. But some men, those confused or
unable to see God themselves, found Him through His servants. The
living saints do this just as the Apostles did. Some do it through
humble service and others through great and powerful works. Saints
pray and then go forth having an impact on those around them.

Moving, then, to the blessed Virgin
Mary and the saints of past ages, they intercede to Christ for us,
asking Him more perfectly than we ever could what we need (this does
not deny the Spirit does this for us too). This is because they live
with God and have achieved oneness with Him after life here on this
earth. For Christ Himself prayed that just as He and the Father were
one that “they may also be in us, that the world may believe that
you sent me” (Jn 17:21).

When we ask a saint living here on
earth or in heaven to pray for us it is not an affront to Christ or
the Spirit, rather it is an act of humility. It is an act of humility
because we ask the very proper question “Lord, teach us how to pray
just as John taught his disciples” (Lk 11:1). John the Baptist, one
of the chief saints and prophets, taught his disciples to pray and
how to live. A saint, in John’s image, lived these words perfectly:
“He must increase, I must decrease” (Jn 3:30).

Thus, asking the saints for
intercession is not ignorance of the power or mediation of Christ.
The presence of the saints influenced many to virtue and faith. This
is why Paul longs to be with the Corinthians in person and to “fill
the deficiencies of your faith” (1 Thes 3:10).

In life the Apostles tirelessly labored
for the sake of the faithful and even died for it. Their lives and
examples alone filled the deficiencies of the faithful. Their faith
and the faith of any saint, however, was not a source of pride.
Rather they always pointed to Christ.

Peter, saying he would be unworthy to die as Christ did, was crucified upside down. The Cross itself points to heaven.

In the next section, I will discuss in
what manner they pointed to Christ and how a saint effects the work
of salvation in the world. I shall begin by looking at the Old
Testament and then the New to show that this process is nothing new
in the long history of faith. Having introduced saintly intercession
it is good to see how the holy prophets interceded to God for the
people of Israel. Thereafter I will elaborate on the communion of
saints in heaven who work tirelessly on our behalf.

Thursday, October 18, 2012

For the average person, the debate of
faith and works will change little in their lives with regard to how
they live it out. Even still, I urge anyone who considers themselves
a student of faith and of Christ to examine more closely the
relationship of faith and works. The reason is not because I wish to
change your faith or to suggest one good work over the other but
rather that the way which we conceive a relationship between ideas
affects those ideas.

I will give two analogies to help
illustrate this:

A basketball coach conceives that
defense wins games and because of this the offense of that team will
proceed from the defense (e.g., turnovers lead to fast-break points,
etc.). This is to say that the idea about defense builds the idea of
the offense.

Tom Thibodeau, coach of the Chicago Bulls, prides his team on perfecting their defense first. The Bull's refined defense leads them to shutting down teams and winning even if they shoot 30% or score only 80-some points. Their offense depends on their (and the coach's) passion and vision for defense.

Likewise, when a man and a woman are
married, one (or both) may have an image about what their marriage
should look like, such as what a good husband/father/man does and
what a good wife/mother/woman does. They make this image of what the
relationship should strive for and they order their daily lives,
thoughts, and actions to look like that idea and image—for good or
ill.

Regardless of all the work that goes into the perfect photo, reception, and wedding, a couple gets married in order to live a full life together, a life of trials, periods of loneliness, difficulties, and disappointments just as much as they will experience joy, peace, and togetherness. The difficulty lies in the greater emphasis being placed on perfecting the beginning as opposed to perfecting each other along the way.

What I mean by these two analogies is
that the way we look at faith and works are important. Where we may
have an idea of faith and an idea of what (good) works are, the
relationship between faith and works is a third idea added to these
two. It is the nature of these ideas, so to speak, that I would like
to write about for you.

As I considered the relationship
between faith and works I found that the matter can be more difficult
than it first appears because of the nature of faith. Faith can be a
difficult subject for a few reasons. On the one hand faith is a very
personal affair, for each one of us has experienced God in a
particular way and we have grown in that relationship in various
manners. On the other hand, the purpose of faith is unity, not just
with God but with each other as well, for “I pray … that they may
all be one, as you, Father, are in me and I in you, that they
may also be in us, so that the world may believe that you sent me”
(Jn 17:20, 21). Faith is furthermore described as “the realization
of what is hoped for and evidence of things not seen” (Heb 11:1)
which is related to ourselves as well as for the whole world. For why
else would we pray, in faith, “Thy will be done on earth as it is
in heaven” if it wasn't for the hope that all might be as one? In
the Old Testament the covenant was for a people of God. Whether the
king of Israel sinned or the people sinned the whole land was
afflicted with injustice and many other evils. Faith in Christ is the
new covenant. Through that faith we are all connected. Far be it from me to
suggest faith is impersonal, but I hope to show in addition to faith
being deeply personal that faith is at its core equally communal.

This depicts Moses speaking to the children of Israel. All of them are intently focused on him. They receive one word and one people which has come from one God.

When I reflected on works I found that
whether or not one believes in the efficacy of works for salvation it
nevertheless follows that good works are preferable to evil ones.
Further still, whether good works are inspired by the Spirit or come
about as a result of personal effort (or both) they are often
considered a sign and expression of faith. Works point toward that
supreme Good toward which all men strive to varying degree. I do,
however, still plan to speak on works as they pertain to Scripture
and how they pertain to faith in greater detail.

My overall goal is to elaborate on the
relationship of faith and works in a manner that neither diminishes
nor emphasizes one over the other. In short, how shall we understand
this passage by James? “You see that faith was active along with
his works, and faith was completed by the works … See how a person
is justified by works and not by faith alone” (James 2:22, 24).

With these introductory remarks being
said I will move onto my investigation in subsequent pieces. I shall
begin by moving away from directly speaking about this matter and
instead focus on love. Perhaps if we examine love more closely we
will see more clearly the matter at hand.

Thursday, October 4, 2012

I had worked a great deal on this but am humbled in the simple fact
that this barely scratches the surface on a number of issues. By the
time I had realized my efforts (up until now) this essay had gone past
3000 words.

Not willing to subject you the torture of reading me
for too long I decided to end the piece somewhat abruptly. It would have
taken me years to write this as I truly intentioned. For now I hoped to
write this as partly historical, partly theological, and in part
analysis, exhortation, correction, and more. Have I succeeded? I'm not
sure. I'll see the discussion that comes from it--so I do hope you
comment.

It is a bit long, but I hope to continue on this topic
in a more concise manner. I have some comments on this already in my
pieces "On the Priesthood," "On Hierarchy," "On Confession," and "On
Forgiveness." If you are so inclined, please read (or reread) them.

[I have employed parenthetical citations. In them I list the primary
text and cite by letter the book I used. This can be viewed at the end
of the piece. -M]

The Body of Christ

The weaknesses and failings on the
Catholic Church are well focused on. Far be it from me to deny or
cover up the faults of my Body. Rather I recognize them and yet,
through it all, love it. Though I would like to reflect on this I
would rather like my reader to consider two things: 1) that same Body
which we call the Church, specifically what that means, and 2) the
general view(s) of my Protestant brothers and sisters regarding this
issue. If we, believers in Christ, are also called the Body of
Christ, do you know what that Body looks like? Below I shall examine
those communities known as Protestant and Christian as well as those
people who call themselves followers of Christ. I ask my readers,
Catholic and Protestant alike, to examine their own communities and
ask themselves if it represents Christ and if it represents the
'body' and ‘people of God’ images that we are supposed to be.

The opposition that had begun in the
form of schism and reform by the Protestant Reformation is one that
should be read with sympathy by Catholics and a critical
eye by Protestants. The former are often all too ready to deny
their words of “faith alone” and “sola scriptura”
without considering why the reformers felt they needed to say it. The
latter are ready to applaud the evaluation that the Catholic Church
as the “whore of Babylon” and the pope as “anti-Christ” and
then fail to evaluate the reasons some reformers derived these
notions. Let us all not rest in ignorance but truth. Though I wish I
could focus on all things the topic is larger than my competence.
Below I leave for your evaluation my analysis and interpretation of
some Protestant ideologies and their implications in practice.

This man was not a fan of sola scriptura.

Lutherans and other groups say that
Scripture is authoritative and binding. Yet the fragmentation of
these movements, sects, and communities showed many of them that the
Bible alone—however true it is—was not sufficient for the unity
of the community. For example, the Missouri Synod of Lutherans is a
group that is very reverent towards God. They are also quite faithful
to the teachings of Luther. They, however, agree to abide by certain
rules through a signed confession, such as rules found in ‘The Book
of Concord’ (1580 AD). They also agree to a certain form of
governance (e.g., ministers and councils) and, of course, rely on
Scripture.

Martin Luther and Phillip Melanchthon. These two were the primary authors of The Book of Concord. Both, especially Phillip, wanted to rid the Christian faith of the Catholic Church. Luther moderately and Melanchton aggressively. As intellecectuals they aren't to be taken lightly--they were geniuses. But perhaps they both got swept up in a movement that was bigger than Luther anticipated.

This rule is not binding, though. It is
merely a confession and agreement. They, the Episcopalians, and
Baptists have learned that their unions cannot be held together by
doctrine but by Scripture and faith. For Protestants in general the
Holy Spirit speaks to each man. As a result, when conflict arises
among them two problems emerge: 1) you are mistaken and the Spirit
isn’t in you. 2) You’ve misread Scripture. This argument could go
back and forth. Whereas these two statements can be used as a
critique, the same two statements can be used as a support: ‘I read
it correctly’ and ‘I know the Holy Spirit inspired me.’

Indeed, for Protestant Reformers the
interpretation of Scripture comes through the Holy Spirit alone and
“the Holy Spirit can only be possessed by pure hearts” (Luther,
To the Christian Nobility of the German Nation, 1520; J.100).
Yet who possesses this pure heart? Ulrich Zwingli, a Swiss reformer,
said “I know for certain God teaches me, for I know this by
experience” (On Clarity and Certainty, 1522; J.188) where before he
defined faith as 'having nothing to do with reason.' Neither ideology
can challenge itself here. One cannot say to Zwingli “you did not
experience this” on the grounds that only Zwlingli could have
experienced God in the manner he describes. For Luther, no one could
say to him “you are not pure of heart” because purity is a gift
of the Spirit and a total trust of that Spirit makes one pure. But
let us leave this here for now. Let us consider only that the
proposal of these two well-intentioned men was to emphasize Scripture
as the Word of God and that faith, a gift, is the guarantee of
salvation. We shall examine this again in a moment.

Ulrich Zwingli, a Swiss reformer, was very charismatic but just as temperamental. Before his split from Rome he had been a priest. As a priest he had been a suspected womanizer.

Luther and Zwingli (and later Calvin,
to name a few) each formed their own communities based on their
ideology—similar at their core and divergent in their expressions.
These proposals, however, were the cause of much division. Whether it
is through a true love and care for the truth or an apathy for the
interpretations and witness of others, leaders who were at one time
united formed their own separate congregations because of their
conviction that God promised them, in faith, that they were correct.
Today, the Missouri Lutherans, Episcopalians, and others came to rely
on, ironically, promises and edicts outside of Scripture to maintain
unity. These edicts were and are in no ways binding, but they are
agreements by a people that proclaim how Scripture should be read and
what is required of the faithful.

In their efforts to cast off the yoke
of “institution” they were eventually confronted by the
practicality and necessity of institutionalizing their faith so as to
maintain unity. For example, a Missouri Synod Lutheran can only be
called as such if he adheres to the agreement of this synod. A faith
that is founded upon a personal faith and Scripture alone is now
defined more clearly according to this code. The purpose of this is
not wrong, I should say. But those who believe in a personal faith
that saves (and that’s it), is it coherent?

These established Protestant groups
advocated, and not unjustly, a personal faith. The problem then
becomes what “orthodoxy” is for one who considers himself a
‘follower of Christ.’ One says there must be priests while others
say that there is only one high priest. One says that Christ is
present in the Lord’s Supper while another will say that it is only
a symbol for our edification. Some meet for prayer regularly while
others meet rarely.

Scripture itself became a battleground,
perhaps as it always had been. But now Scripture was the only
authority for the Christian and only those inspired could preach it
(properly). Now, we say that it is true that those without faith will
struggle with Scripture. They may not be able to pierce its depths at
all for “the mystery of the kingdom of God has been granted to you
[Jesus' disciples]. But to those outside everything comes in parables
so that they may look and see but not perceive” (Mk 4:11-12a).
Jesus also says that we should “beware false prophets … [since]
by their fruits you will know them” (Mt 7:15) and yet the method by
which we evaluate these fruits is difficult. Those from outside
cannot effectively speak—some think not at all (which is false)—and
even those within could lead people away.

A Christian who rejected the Catholic
Church could no longer refer to any precedent in history or practice
for support or clarification. This is true because the rejection of
precedence and tradition gave way, eventually, to preference—both
in determining one's spiritual fruits as well as orthodoxy. In
reality it was the only option remaining.

In the past, an ecclesial
council (such as Nicea in 325 AD) was called because of some dispute
in practice or some affront to dogma (and/or doctrine). A council
met, typically, so as to resolve those topics which lacked clarity
and not impose practices or beliefs that were arbitrarily new. These
disputes arose either because of variant practices, clashing
theologies, or a development of long-held doctrine in light of a new
crisis. The most famous example was the divinity (Godhood) of Christ
challenged by Arius. Councils of the past appealed to Scripture but
also Tradition, for they looked to and “held fast to the traditions
they were taught” (cf. 2 Thes 2:14). They used both of these to
test the truth of new practices and beliefs would inevitably arise
over the course of time, just as they had for the Apostles when the
name of Christ Jesus gathered Gentile and Jew (see: Acts 15). From
this council the Apostles dispersed once again to reaffirm the good
practices and correct the errors of each community.

The Council of Trent (1545-1563) stands as perhaps one of the Church's greatest councils. It was a response to the Protestant Reformation but also a council by which the leaders of the whole Church met to enact reform, clarify doctrine, as well as extend a pastoral hand to those disenfranchised with the faith.

For the Christian reformers of the 15th
and 16th centuries, however, the opinions of past ages
were true if and only if they were in accord with the present age, in
a manner of speaking. The councils did not speak authoritatively in
that the declared this or that was proper or improper in regard to
Scripture. Rather the purpose of ecclesial councils was so that “many
may derive benefit from it.” Yet here in the Smalcald Articles,
which were written in 1537 by Luther, he immediately follows by
saying “[We ourselves do not] need such a council, for by God's
grace our churches have now been so enlightened and supplied with the
pure Word … that we do not ask for a council … [for we believe
that] it would not improve our condition” (T.290). Those who are
well do not need a doctor and those who are enlightened do not need
council (or a council).

If you look at this situation as I do
perhaps you see how much of a mess it could become. Even among
Luther's friends there were stark divisions towards the end of his
life. The Christian who had faith must follow the Holy Spirit more
than the counsel of men and he must also prefer Scripture as higher
than all other words. The organized reformers, in recognizing the
weakness of human nature, also sought to establish communities,
churches, and rules by which they would not be led astray. The goal
of the reformers was to rely on God alone but many ended up with a
local, often times a state institution—for “no one can [form a
truly free council] so well as temporal authorities … [since]
whenever it is profitable or necessary, they ought to exercise the
office and work which they have received from God over everyone”
(Letter to the German Nation, J.101). The intention was that
the state [not the best term for this time-period] would facilitate a
free council for religion. A problem arose, however, in that the
Catholic Church at this time had in many senses true autonomy from
the state. Of course there were clashes and corruption, but as a
whole the Catholic Church under the guidance of the pope and bishops
was concretely separate from the state in many respects. This
relationship could only survive, in part, by an agreement from Church
and State. The Protestant model, however, relied on the uniformity of
State and church almost to the point where the authority wielded was
the State's alone. Temporal authority was charged with protecting the
freedom of the faith in that land. But in many cases the reformers
became a member of the state themselves and concerned very much with
temporal power (the same power they accused the Catholics of
hoarding). In other cases, reformers and the faithful became indebted
or even reliant on the state to support their faith. (It should be
noted that Pope Boniface VIII, when he published “Unum Sanctam”
in 1302, made the opposite error for Catholics by proclaiming the
Church alone had all power, temporal and
spiritual—but a proper examination of this is for another time).

However, there were those who
recognized this weakness and absurdity—for if the pope and bishops
were merely a human institution how did the state guarantee better
governance? As such, they reduced the whole of faith into a personal
venture. But as time progressed these ones entered into an even
greater absurdity for they call those who have faith Christian but
they appear to be far from a “people of God.” Many of them
identify under the maxim “I believe in Jesus but not religion.”
These people see faith as nothing more than a personal relationship
with Christ. At the same time there is nothing in their lives that
might explicitly direct them or warn them of deficiencies in their
faith.

Spiritual and not Religious = not spiritual.

Certainly we can recognize deficiencies
in our bodies and in our behavior, such as alcoholism or extreme
arrogance. Their faith, however, is personal and no man could point a
deficiency in it. For some, perhaps, they believe that their own
faith is weak and that's how it's supposed to be. All the same they
believe that just as a relationship grows so too does theirs with
Christ develop.

As a thought on its own it isn't bad.
In fact we are all called to grow closer to the God who loves us. Let
us return, however, to the image of the Body of Christ. Those who
claim to be non-denominational must make an account for themselves as
to how they see this Body. For a body is not a patchwork of personal
relationships of bones to the head, sinews to the head, blood to the
head, and so forth. Rather every sinew, muscle, vein, and follicle is
interconnected in some manner. Is the Church simply the number of
those who believe or is it something greater? The blood is not the
head yet does it not provide life to our limbs? The bones are not the
head yet do they not support the whole? Likewise the hands are not
the head but do they not labor and provide for the body?

Those who would isolate themselves from
others insofar as they reject a visible and concrete community of
believers would do well to heed Scripture: Peter and John “went
back to their own people … [and] as they prayed, the place where
they gathered shook[.] The community of believers was of one heart
and mind” (Acts 4:23,31a,32a). More still, Scripture herself speaks
not only of our weakness that is brought about by the struggle
between flesh and spirit, but in the spirit itself. Paul says that
“we pray beyond measure to see you in person and remedy the
deficiencies of your faith” (1 Thes 3:10). Here we have men,
acting in the Holy Spirit, gathering physically together and desiring
a physical union so as to teach, preach, instruct, and safeguard
against deficiencies in personal faiths. Stronger still, Paul relates
to Timothy both the things he taught and what was given to him by the
community of the faithful. He tells Timothy to “Command and
teach these things … Attend to [your own faith] and to your
teaching; persevere in both tasks, for by doing so you will save
both yourself and those who listen to you” (1 Tim 4:11,16).

Spiritual and Religious. They gathered in the upper room and received the Holy Spirit and immediately began preaching Jesus to the World.

I think I have spoken enough on this
matter. Faith neither starts nor ends as a private or isolated
venture. Rather faith in Christ Jesus joins us to His Body, the
Church. That Church is likewise more than the number of believers but
a community of believers that is visible. More still that visible
community is one made up of laborers, teachers, parents, and priests
where those “who are spiritual should correct [one who errs] in a
gentle spirit” (Gal 6:1). All of us are in a community called to
holiness, and that call to holiness is a perfection of charity for
all people. Like a Body, however, some are charged with greater
authority. “We ask you, brothers, to respect those who are laboring
among you and who are over you in the Lord and who admonish
you, and to show esteem for them withspecial love on
account of their work” (1 Thes 5:12-13).

I rise, now, towards my Protestant
brothers and sisters who have acknowledged much of what I said above
by gathering together in prayer, accepting admonishment from others
in regard to faith, and in a greater sense of Christian unity. You
must wrestle with what you place upon Scripture as well as the
manifestation/expression of your image of 'Church.'

If indeed you hold that “All
Scripture is inspired by God and ise useful for teaching, for
refutation, for correction, and for training in righteousness” (2
Tim 3:16) what was it that compelled Luther, a general among the
milites contra catholicam, to
say “St. James' epistle is really an epistle of straw, compared to
these other [books of Scripture] for it has nothing of the nature of
the gospel about it” (Preface to the New Testament, 1522, 1546;
J.117)? Many deny, as a matter of belief, that we are justified by
works and have ignored this holy author when he says “Was not
Abraham our father justified by works when he offered his son upon
the altar? You see that faith was active along with his works, and
faith was completed by the works. … See how a person is justified
by works and not by faith alone” (James 2:21-22,24). What
determines Scripture and its interpretation if this phrase could be
ignored in favor of St. Paul? By what standard do you judge these
matters?

I only put this here because I love this image.

I pose another
question to you, friends: who spoke truly in this regard?

Two men read that
Christ said “this is my body” at His Last Supper.

One claimed that
Christ's Body and Blood were truly present in that sacrament. He
claimed that Christ's “is” was true and real. That at the
repeating on these words Christ Himself is present “in, around,
under, and through” the bread and wine. He believes this is true
because Christ Himself said so.

The other countered
that just as Jesus had called Himself the “Way” and the “Vine,”
and that both were not literal, that His words here also constituted
a symbol by which we are edified in faith.

The issue was not
resolved among them—how do you resolve it?

There
is much more that I would like to speak on, but I will refrain from
some of it here in favor of explaining a different aspect in a future
piece concerning the holy ones, the saints. In it I hope to address
human weakness, how we participate with God (and examples in
Scripture), and other aspects. In this piece I regretfully omitted
the wisdom of Augustine who can offer us a great deal of wisdom. I
hope to introduce him when I am more comfortable and versed in the
vast body of his work on this issue. Until then I heartily recommend
“On Christian Teaching”
as a good starting point. Lutherans owe much to Augustine's theology
of which Luther was well versed.

I conclude by
urging a greater reflection on that powerful image the “Body of
Christ” and all its implications. It is easy for us, if we have
faith, to simply see ourselves as members. It is far more difficult
for any of us to see ourselves as pained, maligned, festering,
bleeding, crippled, maimed, or cancerous. The unity of any Body rests
in both uniformity (for a body has many parts working towards the
same purpose) as well as diversity (i.e., the aforementioned parts).
Does that Body which you call 'Church' facilitate this? Is it
accomplishing the call for one Church here on earth as it is in
heaven? Is Scripture the only authority, and if so which is greater,
faith or Scripture? Consequently, how is this question answered?
There is much more to say but for now I will pause my argument and
allow it to grow from here. My other pieces refer to Catholic
perspectives on some of these matters, but as of now I hardly have
the talent or the time to expound on these subjects as I would like.